The Mighty Storm
Page 27

It feels like he’s making love to me.
I know it’s stupid, because Jake doesn’t do love.
But for this moment, I want to believe it. I want to believe his words. I want to believe that it’s always been me.
Because if I’m throwing everything I have away with Will for this moment, then I need to believe it’s worth it.
Jake takes hold of my hand, entwining our fingers, he rests them beside my head on the pillow, his other cupping my face, he kisses me, his pace picking up, moving further inside me, and now I’m used to his size, I let him, needing this and more.
“Fuck,” he groans. “This is ... Tru … you feel … fuccckk.”
I move my mouth from his, kissing his jaw, nipping his skin with my teeth. Knowing that I’m doing this to him, making him feel this way, makes me feel hot, sexy and uninhibited.
So totally unlike me.
And I surprise myself, when I hear the words escaping my husky sounding mouth, “Sit up, Jake.”
A brief pause while he meets my eyes.
Understanding what I want, Jake puts his arm under my back, lifting me with him, staying inside me, he sits back onto his heels with me straddling him.
With my hair damp and flowing down my back, I place my hands on his shoulders. Very slowly, I start to move up and down on his length. In this position I can have as much or as little of Jake as I want, and I want all of him.
His hands are on my hips, moving with me. Then they’re on my breasts, then upwards tangling into my hair and he’s pulling my face to his, kissing me again.
It’s like he doesn’t know which part of me he wants to touch the most.
And I like that he’s this out of control over me.
I start to move faster and faster, and before I know it I feel the build inside me, so soon and so intense, I couldn’t hold off even if I wanted to.
“Oh, Jake,” I groan as I come forcefully, like I’ve never come before, exploding all around him.
While I’m coming, Jake drives me back into the bed, and starts to fuck me hard, then he’s tensing, rigid, calling out my name.
We lay, panting breathless for minutes after, both coming down from our high.
Jake moves off me, lying beside me, he takes his condom off, tying a knot in the end, he drops it to the floor and pulls me into his arms.
“That was amazing,” he murmurs, kissing my hair. “I wish we’d done this year’s ago.”
I can’t find the words to speak.
Because he’s right, we should have done this year’s ago, before he left. Pre-Will.
Guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, taking everything with it.
But then if we had, had sex all those years ago, he would have ruined me, because I would have never recovered from it. I would have never recovered from him.
Because I know unequivocally I’ll never recover from this, from what we’ve just done.
Chapter Fourteen
Where the hell is that music coming from?
Adele. Crap, my phone’s ringing and it’s in my bag in the living room.
I untangle myself from a very naked Jake, and make a dash for my bag.
Grabbing it off the sofa I rip it open, retrieve my phone and answer without looking at the caller display.
“Hello,” I say breathless.
“Why are you out of breath?”
Vicky.
“Because I was in bed and my phone was in the living room.”
“And were you in bed with Jake?”
What?!
“What?”
“Jake – is it true?” she asks with a conspiratorial tone to her voice.
I look around the room suspiciously. I’m half-expecting her to jump out on me any second now.
“Is what true about Jake?” My voice trembles slightly, and I curse it.
“Tru, stop evading – is it, or is it not true that you and Jake are sleeping together?”
My heart stops in my chest. No beating, no nothing. I think I may actually be dead right now. And it would so serve me right if I was.
“No!” I exclaim, coming back to life. “Why would you ask that?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it did wobble a little again, I’m just hoping she didn’t notice.
“You so are!”
“No. I’m not.” I put my best ‘I’m not fucking kidding’ voice on.
I hear Jake move in bed. I spin on the spot looking at him through the open door.
Guilt stains all over me in this moment, as I look on at the very evidence of my betrayal of Will, before me.
So not only do I cheat, I also lie about cheating.
I hate to lie to Vicky, but I can’t exactly tell her the truth. Will has to be the one to be told first. And honestly, I haven’t even had a chance to sort it all through in my own mind quite yet as to how that’s going to unfold.
Then I look down at myself and realise I’m completely naked.
“Tru? Are you still there?” Vicky sounds a little concerned.
“Um … yeah. Just give me a sec,” I mutter.
Removing my phone from my ear, I keep it in my hand and tiptoe back into the bedroom. I pick up the first item of clothing I find, which happens to be Jake’s stinky T-shirt from last night, and pull it on.
But it doesn’t smell so stinky anymore. It just smells of Jake. It pains and pleases me at the same time.
Silently, I walk back through to the living room, closing the door quietly behind me. I sit down on the edge of the coffee table facing the closed bedroom door.
“Okay, I’m back,” I say.
“All okay?” Vicky asks, she still sounds concerned. And I feel sick.
“Yeah, I just needed a drink of water, was feeling a little dry … so why on earth do you think I’m sleeping with Jake?”
“Because it’s splashed all over the internet, my darling,” she says softly. “Pictures of you dancing up close and personal in a club with Jake, then there’s shots of him carrying you into a hotel.”
Oh, fuck.
We were followed here by the paps.
Her words are thudding around my head, chasing on the tails of many, many other questions and fears I have.
How did I not even notice we were being photographed in the club, or at the hotel?
Because I was too wrapped up in Jake.
Why would they be so interested in Jake with me? It’s not unusual for Jake to be seen with a woman.
“They know who you are, my darling,” she continues as if reading my mind. “That you’re doing his bio, your name is in the article.”
Okay, so maybe there’s my answer why they’re so interested. Jake is sleeping with his biographer. That’s going to pique a little interest for the dirt-dishers.
“What else does it say?” I ask in a small voice.
“That Jake serenaded you at the show they were recording last night.”
“Oh,” I sigh.
“So that’s true?”
“Ahum.”
“Which song?”
“Through It All.”
“Oh,” she says.
Yes, oh, indeed.
“Okay, it also says here that he said you are the love of his life right before he serenaded you.”
“He never said that!” I cry.
I cover my hand with my mouth, realising how loud I was. I don’t want to wake Jake.
“He never said that I’m the love of his life,” I repeat in a quieter voice.
Goddamn tabloid journo’s.
“You know how they like to make things up, honey.”
“What else does it say?” I ask, cringing on the question. “Do they know Jake and I grew up together?”
“Hmm…” I can just imagine her eyes scanning the text in that way she does. And then I’m suddenly hit with stinging tears at the back of my eyes, and I just want to tell her everything. She’s one of my closest friends and right now I really need a friend.
But deep down I know I can’t tell her. I’ve betrayed Will enough already as it is.
“No,” she concludes. “It just goes on about you being his biographer … oh and the magazine is mentioned!” she squeals. “Um … well it just says you work here,” she quickly adds, recovering herself. “Okay, there’s the dancing together in the club … that Jake’s eyes were on you all night and no one else according to onlookers…” They were? “That he seemed really into you…” He did? “Showed absolutely no interest in anyone else whatsoever, and that you left the club together and went back to the hotel, and it finishes saying that maybe you’re the one to finally tame Jake.”
The one? They think I’m the one to tame Jake?
Not bloody likely. I don’t think Jake is tameable.
Then his words from last night play in my ears, ‘It’s always been you, Tru. Always.’
“Tru, are you still there?”
“Um … yes, sorry, I’m here.”
“Look this is fine,” Vicky impresses. “No press is bad press, remember, my darling. The media interest in you will quickly die down, and then you can get back to concentrating on the bio. If anything it will be good for the story.”
“What, that people think Jake’s screwing his biographer?” I come off as short and terse. It’s because I am.
And because it’s the truth. Jake has screwed his biographer. His non-single, in a relationship with Will, biographer.
“I’m just trying to look at the positives here, Tru.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I run my hand through my tangled hair. Hair that Jake tangled up. When he was in bed with me.
Inside me.
Shit. I’ve so totally and monumentally fucked everything up.
And even though the shit has totally hit the fan, I still get a shiver at the memory of his hands on me ... of him inside me.
“I’m sorry, it’s just all a lot to take in with a hangover and a few hours’ sleep.” I blow out a breath. “I’m going to have to call Will aren’t I?”
“He probably won’t have seen the news yet. He’s more likely to read the Times than The Sun, right? And it’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, my darling, so don’t let that boy give you a hard time about this.”
I feel sick. I wish I was in the bathroom right now because I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up any minute.
“I won’t,” I say. “And thanks for calling to give me the heads up. You’re too good to me.”
“Of course I’d call. I would always call. I love you, darling girl. You’ll call me later?”
“Of course I will.”
I hang the phone up with Vicky, and stare down at my phone in my trembling hand.
I quickly go online on my phone and straight to Google and search Jake’s name under recent news.
And there they are, the pictures.
Crap.
They do not look good at all. They look incriminating.
Which they are, were … kind of.
Fuck.
With shaky fingers, I close the internet down, and speed dial Will’s number.
“Hey, beautiful,” he coos down the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”
At the sound of his lovely voice, I almost break down.
And by his tone, I’m guessing he hasn’t seen the news yet. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.